Page 97 of The Last Sanctuary

“Stop it!” Damien cried. “Don’t touch her. You can’t hurt her.”

Dekker snorted. “You going soft on us, boy?”

“This isn’t part of the deal?—”

Vaughn said, “There is no deal.”

Damien looked shocked. “But you said?—"

Dekker shot him a contemptuous look. “Don’t you get it? She’s trash. She’s a whore. She’s nothing. She’s not one of us. Now shut the hell up and give her to me.”

Fear flashed in Damien’s eyes. He didn’t shrink back. He opened his mouth, closed it. His jaw clenched. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him something. “And if I don’t?”

Dekker sneered. “How about I gut you both? That what you want? To die with this trashy little whore?”

“Watch yourself, Dekker.” Vaughn’s voice went cold and hard. He cared nothing for Raven, but Dekker had insulted his nephew. He didn’t like that. “Damien, give him the girl.”

Damien hesitated. His sharp eyes flicked uncertainly between Vaughn and Raven.

The rest of the Headhunters stood silent and unmoving. The rain beat down on them all.

Damien reached for the gun at his hip. “No.”

“Damien!” Vaughn said. “Put that thing away before you get hurt and step aside. Last warning.”

Dekker didn’t give Damien a chance to obey. He sprang at Damien and shoved him, tearing the gun from Damien’s grasp in one fluid movement and tossing it away.

Damien went sprawling. He landed hard on his butt, flattening several ferns.

Before Raven could react, Dekker unsheathed his hunting knife, grabbed the back of her head, and pressed the blade to her throat.

“Stop!” Damien pulled himself to his feet, wiping the mud from his pants. He frantically searched for his pistol, hidden in the tall ferns. “Leave her alone!”

Scorpio drew his pistol and aimed it at Damien’s chest. “Don’t move!”

“Don’t hurt her!”

“Enough!” Vaughn held up a hand to stop his nephew. His other hand rested on the strap of his hunting rifle. “Think, now. Don’t do something you’ll regret, son.”

Damien went still. He stood silent, muddy and rain-slicked, his face anguished. He was weaponless, as helpless as Raven in Dekker’s grasp.

Lightning lit the underbelly of the clouds. Torrents of rain poured down.

The edge of the blade scraped Raven’s throat with every swallow. Terror clawed at her with cold, frantic fingers.

She’d miscalculated. Vlad wasn’t here. For whatever reason, the tiger had abandoned his kill early and moved on to greener pastures.

It was over.

She’d gambled and lost.

Vaughn glared at her. “For the last time, where is the damned wolf?”

The knife blade jabbed into her throat. She blinked wetness from her eyes and raised her chin in defiance. She was going to die, but she hadn’t given them everything.

They hadn’t won. She’d made sure of that.

“The wolves aren’t here. They got away. You’ll never find them. You failed.”